


your heart, my home

by ohssens



Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 22:43:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5719738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohssens/pseuds/ohssens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>because love pervades both the known and unknown universe, and chaeyoung is a victim of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	your heart, my home

_How can there be so much that I don’t know?_ is the first question that enters Chaeyoung’s mind when she wakes up for the day.

 

She groans, stripping back the covers off her bed before stepping onto the cold floor. Chaeyoung has never been a fan of winter.

 

It’s a force of habit for her now to wake up precisely when the sun rises, listening to the morning radio playing the same Seo Taiji ballad whilst she eats her breakfast. Afterwards, she will put her left sock on, and then the right, following through the same routine everyday. (She isn’t sick of it per se, but Chaeyoung is tired of it.) Chaeyoung has never been a fan of routine either.

 

She leaves the house at 7:00AM flat, fumbling through the stack of shoes near the door before kissing her mom, _bye ma, thank you for the food, see you later, love you!_

 

 

7:10AM. She’s trying her best not to fall down at the abrupt stops of the bus. At worst, an earphone falls off her ear and she can hear the silver keychains dangling from her backpack clang loudly against each other. It’s the same thing everyday, and she sees the same familiar faces riding the same bus – there’s Yugyeom, (she caught a glance at the embroidered nametag on his uniform once) who gets off at the stop before hers. The old businessman, who looks like he’d rather feed pigeons in the nearby park than attend to the corporation he works at, and the middle-aged woman, amongst other people, who mysteriously gets off at different stops that Chaeyoung can’t identify a pattern in.

 

 

7:25AM. Chaeyoung is strolling through the corridor of the 11th grade. This time, her earphones are inside her bag.

 

7:30AM. She sets her things down on her desk in her designated classroom whilst she gets ready for homeroom period. From afar, she can see Tzuyu glancing at her. Chaeyoung gives her back a knowing look, and Tzuyu smiles at her, mouthing, ‘I have to tell you something later.’

 

Another day in the life of Son Chaeyoung.

 

-

 

  
Chaeyoung discovers that Tzuyu has gotten a boyfriend during the holidays, and she is upset. (She doesn’t know why.)

She learns that they’ve made vows to stay by each other perpetually - to graduate together, to grow old with each other. He’s even made plans to move to Taiwan with Tzuyu, but Chaeyoung can only snort at the foolishness of them both. How pathetic.

 

“I don’t get it. Why are you so upset?” Tzuyu hadn’t meant to come off so cold, but the scowl she gives Chaeyoung makes the hair on her nape stand up. Maybe it’s the weather.

 

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

 

“Chaeng . . . can you please stop being such a cynic.” Tzuyu envelopes Chaeyoung’s hand in hers. “He’s a nice guy, okay?”

 

Chaeyoung frowns. “Okay.”

 

-

 

Normally, Chaeyoung would have been in control of herself, her own feelings and inhibitions included. And although she was usually forced to believe otherwise, she liked to think that there were more things she knew than she didn’t - which ultimately fueled her confusion: why had she reacted so sour to the idea of Tzuyu getting a boyfriend? In fact, she herself found it strange, too; after all, was it not her obligation, as a friend, to feel the same joy Tzuyu did? Or at least cheer her on? Maybe she was just possessive over her best friend, that’s all.

 

Or maybe . . .

 

 _No. No way._ Chaeyoung shakes her head. _Stupid, stupid thoughts._

 

-

 

“Tzuyu-ya,” Chaeyoung brings up one day, “what does being in love feel like?”

 

“Why’re you asking?”

 

“Nothing, really.” Chaeyoung frowns in an attempt to feign nonchalance. “I’m just curious, that’s all.”

 

“Okay, uhm, well . . . it’s when you feel like there are are a thousand fireworks exploding in your chest, the next thing you know, there are butterflies in your stomach, then, there are goosebumps all over your body . . . ” Tzuyu clamps her cheeks with her palms. She’s pretty sure she’s blushing by now. “. . . it feels really nice. You constantly think of that person, and you subconsciously compare them to everybody else, because it feels like you’ve just found who you’ve been looking for your entire life. Um . . . do you get it?”

 

 _‘And you subconsciously compare them to everybody else,’_ Chaeyoung repeats in her head. For a moment, she wonders what he’s able to make Tzuyu feel that she can’t. “Mhmm.”

 

 

Later that night, when she is wrapped in the comfort of her own bed covers, Chaeyoung finally dares to ask herself: _Is it because I like Tzuyu?_

 

 

It was a difficult question with equally complicated answers. In fact, Chaeyoung was never even secure with her own sexuality. (But it wasn’t anything alarming, really.)

Chaeyoung simply didn’t feel the need to identify with a label, and thus deemed her sexuality fluid. She wasn’t exactly, or strictly into girls; however, she still found it rather difficult to identify her own sexual and romantic interests. Chaeyoung had indeed thought that women were beautiful, yes, but never had she thought of touching them the same way all the boys her age wanted to. These boys blatantly ogled Tzuyu’s breasts whenever she walked by, and Chaeyoung thought it was disgusting. Nearly animalistic, even. She didn’t think anyone was at par to view Tzuyu as such; In Chaeyoung’s eyes, Tzuyu was the moon: beautiful, yet quite unreachable. Tzuyu, too, was someone she felt that she had to protect, so how could she withstand the thought of people objectifying Tzuyu for their own sexual entitlement?

Even Chaeyoung herself shied away from the thought of running her own palms down Tzuyu’s exquisite back, (which not to mention looked so beautiful when it was shimmering with sweat under the summer sun, or in the locker room, when she occasionally saw Tzuyu naked, her physique looking like it was sculpted by the Greek Gods themselves and, and – oh my, Chaeyoung is blushing.)

 

However, (and ironically), one thing was for sure: _Chaeyoung is confused._

 

Chaeyoung is but a sixteen year old about to embark towards the different realm of sexuality, but she remains oblivious as to where the wind blows, and even where the sails start.

 

-

 

“I’d braid your hair if I could too, you know. It’s a pity it’s too short, I’m so sad . . .”

 

“Maybe next time, Tzuyu-ya.”

 

“Really wish I could.”

 

 _“Maybe next time.”_ Chaeyoung whispers apologetically, fingers threading more lightly now. “Hey, it’s okay. Next time, in the Spring, I’d be able to weave flowers into your hair, and you would look even prettier than you already are right now.”

The taller girl sighed in contentment. Chaeyoung always knew that Tzuyu liked Spring.

And Tzuyu’s tone is hopeful (which Chaeyoung doesn’t understand, because why would she ever have to doubt her own beauty) when she asks, “You mean that?”

 

“I do.” Chaeyoung always does.

 

-

 

On the bus ride on her way to school, Chaeyoung starts to wonder if the powers of observation overlapped with the power of love. She sees all these mundane-looking buildings everyday, fascinatingly watching them move like photography roll films, but did she really know what they look like, precisely? (Chaeyoung feels particularly philosophical on this cold winter day.)

 

And she asks herself again, because she realizes that she’s starting to notice quirks about Tzuyu that she’s surprisingly never noticed before. Now, she notices the precise curve of Tzuyu’s jaw, and her cleft chin that she seemed like she was never proud of. She starts to further take account of Tzuyu’s perseverance, too. (However, she was only able to watch with pitiful eyes, secretly wishing she could take those tears instead, even if wishing for so was nearly impossible. Tzuyu strictly and only wept behind closed doors. But still, she feels more than grateful to have witnessed such an occurrence one time - and she will never forget.)

 

Chaeyoung rubs her eyes. She feels distressed at the sudden change, realizing that she’s been thinking about Tzuyu unusually more lately. At this point, she wonders if she knows Tzuyu more than Tzuyu herself does.

 

And Chaeyoung begrudgingly answers her doubts. Perhaps the powers of observation did categorize under love (or passion, for that matter; the only general reason people observed places, things, and other people (occasionally) was because they usually wanted to get something out of them), so it was a yes. The powers of observation had indeed paralleled with the power of love.

After all, love did pervade almost all things.

 

-

 

It’s Spring break again. She’s out of school, but Chaeyoung amusingly (cynically) wonders if Tzuyu would bring her a handful of Bad News once class starts again in a few weeks. (A birth of a romantic relationship isn’t supposed to be bad news, really, but Chaeyoung is stressed, and all kinds of tired, so she’d rather deflect any traces of joy right now. In simple terms, Chaeyoung hopes to stop hoping. Ironically.)

And Chaeyoung has her whole break planned already - a demeaning cycle of eat, sleep, watch TV. (and talk to Tzuyu, occasionally, - if she isn’t too busy hanging out with her boyfriend - that is.)

She’s supposed to be watching television by herself in the living room when she hears her doorbell ring relentlessly - it’s painfully loud, and it hurts her ears. Chaeyoung curses the sky - this is not her day.

But during the short walk from the couch to the doorway, she hears the familiar cries of anguish - and even hysteria, if Chaeyoung were to be honest. She wonders what it is, and before she knows it, her palm is clutching the doorknob. Slightly pushing the door open, Chaeyoung freezes. Suddenly she can’t feel anything, move anything.

 

It’s Tzuyu.

 

Tzuyu forcefully lets herself in, pushing the door open. Chaeyoung still can’t believe her eyes; it’s a rare sight to see Tzuyu like this - her entire face drenched in tears and her hair a mess. Chaeyoung still doesn’t know what could have possibly transpired to cause Tzuyu such a disarray, and so she wants to ask her what’s up?, or rather, what’s wrong, Tzuyu, are you okay, but Chaeyoung is completely at a loss for words right now. There are too much things happening in present, Chaeyoung’s head is a mess, and everything feels so, so slow. Too slow. What's going on?

(And it’s a weird and surprising thought in the midst of so, but Chaeyoung realizes that she doesn’t know a lot of things when it comes to Tzuyu.)

So, Chaeyoung is even more surprised when Tzuyu immediately captures her in her arms. She can’t breathe, and she can't speak. No words are leaving her lips, no thoughts are forming in her head.

And it’s only until Tzuyu calms down, and she shakily whispers directly into Chaeyoung’s ears, in between quiet sobs, that Chaeyoung is able to move, able to breathe. ’W-we broke up, Ch-Chaeyoung,’

 

Oh.

 

Everything finally makes sense now.

 

A (selfish, vile, and disgusting) part of Chaeyoung wants to tell Tzuyu ‘I told you so’, but she’s old enough to know what a good friend is supposed to be. So she hesitantly grabs hold of Tzuyu’s arms and breaks the embrace. Chaeyoung bites her lip in regret, and maybe it’s just her, but she thinks she sees the same look of regret mirrored on Tzuyu’s face.

She brings Tzuyu up to her room, dragging her up the stairs whilst she internally winces from the painful silence that has to transpire between the two of them. Chaeyoung immediately gives Tzuyu a change of clothes that miraculously fit, tells her to take a shower, and coddles her up in warm blankets. She serves her hot cocoa and bread in the end. Tzuyu’s favorite. God forbid that Tzuyu catch a cold over some petty break-up with an adolescent boy she probably won’t even remember in 10 years.

 

Chaeyoung speaks for the first time tonight. “You know, you’re lucky it’s Spring break right now.” I wouldn’t want anyone else to see you like this.

 

“I know.” I wouldn’t either. “I’m sorry.”

 

-

Falling in love is difficult, but falling in love with your bestfriend is heart-wrenching, Chaeyoung writes on her homeroom notebook one day. She crumples the page and rips it into pieces before throwing it in the trash can. Just to make sure.

 

-

 

Spring is almost ending, and Chaeyoung can almost feel the formation of slick Summer sweat on her skin. She doesn’t know whether she’s supposed to be happy or not, but here she is, sitting down under the shade of a tree within school grounds. As cliche as it sounds.

 

“Tzuyu-ya.” Chaeyoung calls.

 

“What is it?”

 

“I think I’m in love with you.”

 

And that was it. The verbal admission of truth rolled off her tongue so naturally, and as strange as it was, it didn’t feel anything like the fireworks inside ribcages that Tzuyu was talking about. Chaeyoung didn’t feel any butterflies in her gutter either, nor did she feel goosebumps all over her body; but rather, Chaeyoung felt as if a dam had been broken inside her chest. It was as if her heart jumped, equal parts mocking and congratulating her, finally, you’ve said it, and now I’ve got nothin’ to carry around anymore!

 

“So . . . ” Tzuyu bit chewed on her bottom lip. “what’s going to happen to us?”

 

“I don’t know.” They talk about it like mundane exchanges of inquiriy over telephone lines. It was simply as if it came in the form of a silly and light-hearted question. ‘have you eaten your dinner today?’ ‘can I copy your homework tomorrow morning?’, ‘I’m the best friend you’ve ever had, aren’t I?

 

Love is a weird thing, isn’t it?

 

-

 

They don’t talk about it for days, until one time in Chaeyoung’s room. (It’s been ten days, precisely - but it isn’t like the both of them are secretly counting or anything.) They don’t know how it came to be, but silence simply overtook the room. It wasn’t that an awkward air pushed for a confrontation to transpire, but that was just the way their friendship worked: if you had something to say, please do say it. (Although Chaeyoung had violated this rule for months before her, er, confession.)

 

“Chaeyoung, what do you really want?” Of course it’s Tzuyu who opens the conversation first.

 

 

Chaeyoung just stares at her blankly. She wants to laugh out loud, even, but it all conjures into a straight line on her face. Of course you, of all damn people, know what I want. You can’t have me if you just wanna play games with me like this.

 

And Tzuyu seems to get it, for she further inquires, “Are you sure, Chaeyoung . . .? This isn’t about me anymore, it’s about you. What do you really want?”

 

You, is the automatic reply in Chaeyoung’s head. Without hesitation, without any qualms, it’s Tzuyu that makes up her dreams.

 

And this is the same Chou Tzuyu who is asking her what she wants - the same Tzuyu who made sure that Chaeyoung was happy at all times, and who made sure that Chaeyoung wasn’t being anything but herself. This is also the same Tzuyu who, when Chaeyoung first saw, made her feel like she wanted to fly. Not merely float in the air, but fly - higher, higher, and higher than anyone has ever reached.

 

“I want you, Tzuyu. Only you. Always you, and always with you.”

 

Chaeyoung doesn’t realize it at first, but Tzuyu kisses her - soft, sweet, and light.

 

And Chaeyoung’s desire is granted. When Tzuyu had pressed her lips against Chaeyoung’s own plump ones, Chaeyoung felt as if her heart had flown up to sky, and that there were butterflies in her ribcage and knots in her stomach. She didn’t feel like she was merely gliding in the air - but she was flying, high, to the clouds, up the sky, where no one has ever reached.

Chaeyoung was not precisely sure yet if she was in love, but she knew now, that this was the feeling Tzuyu was talking about.

 

-

 

Indeed, love was strange. But such was the life of Son Chaeyoung. She was a strange dreamer - an irony, even - who was equally cynical yet idealistic. But that’s okay. Chaeyoung didn’t have to keep dreaming anymore, nor did she have to excessively dabble in romanticism or false glorification to fulfill her own satisfactions and desires. Being enveloped in Tzuyu’s arms like this, Chaeyoung thinks she’d much preferably stop dreaming from now on. If this were reality, then Chaeyoung thinks she’d be just fine.

 

 

“Remember the time when I thought I wasn’t in love with you?”

 

They both laugh in unison. Hearty, loud, and full.

 

“Yeah.”

 

(Actually, ‘Fine’ may be an understatement. Chaeyoung would much rather and wholly prefer living now, if it meant being able to see Tzuyu like this, being able to belong to Tzuyu like this.)

 

“I’m going to say it again, but I think I’m in love with you.” It was Spring this time, and Chaeyoung was braiding flowers into Tzuyu’s hair under the shade of the same tree from last Winter. And Chaeyoung wasn’t lying even then - Tzuyu looked so, so beautiful like this.

 

 

“Well, I think I’m in love with you too.” Tzuyu closes her eyes, pausing before grinning real wide, “Again. All over again.”

 

Indeed, Love was a strange creature that pervaded both the known and unknown - but Son Chaeyoung is glad that she became a victim of it.

**Author's Note:**

> this fic kind of has a weird pace so i apologize for that ; ; but thank you for taking the time to read this! there's just something so ... precious? about twice's 99line that i can't point my finger on.....


End file.
